Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 (7 page)

“Ah! That would
be very different. Austria-Hungary is one of the great powers, and if once she
became involved in a war there is no saying what the others might do.”

“There’s no love
lost between her and Russia,” put in Sir Pellinore. “What’s more, Russia
regards herself as the natural protector of the smaller Slav States. Odds are,
she’d go to Serbia’s assistance. The Germans wouldn’t stand for that. If you’re
right, we might all find ourselves landed in a pretty kettle of fish.”

“And
that
is exactly what I fear is going to happen,” said the Duke.
Then he added after a moment: “Tell me. Have either of you ever heard of an
organization called the Black Hand?”

Sir
Pellinore’s
bright blue eyes narrowed a
fraction, but he shook his head. “No. What is it? Sounds like some sort of
Sicilian secret society.”

“It is a secret
society, but it has no connection with the Camorra. It is purely Serbian, and
originated through the murder of King Alexander and Queen Draga at Belgrade in
1903. You will, of course, recall the circumstances of that particularly
atrocious crime?”

The First Lord
nodded. “King Alexander had behaved outrageously towards his people, and there
is every reason to suppose that his wife was his evil genius; but the whole
world was shocked by the exceptional brutality which accompanied their
assassination. As I recollect, the officers who had plotted it broke into their
bedroom with drawn swords, pulled them naked from their bed, and literally
hacked them both to pieces.”

“It was those
officers, sir, who founded the Black Hand. They did so for their mutual
protection. Many of them were highly connected, and as a united body they
proved powerful enough to escape the consequences of their abominable act. Even
though the great nations pressed for justice to be done, King Alexander’s
successor did not feel himself strong enough to punish them, or even force them
into permanent retirement.”

“Then, if these
blackguards have long since secured the immunity which was the cause of their
banding together, what object do you suggest that they have in continuing their
association?”

“Patriotism—if
one may fairly apply that word to a fanatical urge, driving men on to plan any
violence which might raise the status of their country, regardless of the cost.
All these officers are most fervent nationalists, and in 1911 they reformed
their brotherhood, giving it the name of
Ujedinjenje ili Smrt,
which means ‘Union or Death’ and refers to their ambition to unite all the
Yugoslavs under one flag. They will stick at nothing in their attempts to make
Serbia a great kingdom. Recently she has proved the victor in two wars, and
emerged from them the most powerful nation in the Balkans—yet not as powerful
as they had hoped. Those conflicts gained her a great increase of territory in
the south, but she was robbed of the spoils that she considered rightfully hers
in the west, by the decision of the London conference.”

“You mean the
decision of the Great Powers to support Austria’s suggestion that the
ex-Turkish province of Albania should be turned into an independent kingdom?”

“I do! Serbia’s
dearest ambition was to have free access to the Adriatic. She fought a costly
campaign to that end, and with the capture of Scutari won a good port for the
direct shipment of Serbian products overseas. But she was not allowed to keep
it, or the great hinterland that thousands of her soldiers had died to free
from Turkish rule.”

Mr. Marlborough’s
heavy brows drew together in a frown. “No doubt you know that Prince William of
Wied was selected by the powers as the ruler of this new state. He landed in
Albania only last month, and I gather that he is already meeting with great
difficulty in imposing his authority on its turbulent inhabitants. Is it your
view that the Serbs resent having been deprived of this territory so strongly
that they might seize upon its troubled state as an excuse to take up arms
again and reoccupy it?”

“Hot-headed as
they are, I hardly think they are likely to prove as rash as that,” De Richleau
replied cautiously. “For to do so would be to defy an award which has been
agreed upon by all the great nations. But the fact remains that they consider
that award flagrantly unjust and, since it was inspired by Austria, it will
have added fuel to their already burning hatred for that country. No! I regard
it as much more probable that they will instigate fresh trouble in Bosnia. As
you remarked earlier, when referring to its annexation in 1908, a high
percentage of the inhabitants of that province are of Serbian blood, and the
arbitrary manner in which Austria acquired it aroused great resentment among
the other powers. So, should Serbia at any time re-open the question of its
status, she could count on a certain amount of backing. The sort of thing I had
in mind was that she might secretly ferment a demand in the province for Home
Rule, and, on the Austrian government refusing it, make that a cause for war.”

At the words ‘Home
Rule’ the First Lord smiled a little ruefully. In recent months the Irish
question had dominated all others in the Cabinet, and given its members worse
headaches than any they had had in the whole of their careers.

When, after
years of bitter wrangling, it had at last become apparent that no legal measure
could longer prevent the Home Rule Bill becoming law, the people of Northern
Ireland had begun preparations to resist its application by force of arms. The
Irish Nationalists in the House of Commons dared make no concession from fear
of being repudiated by their own people, and as the third largest parliamentary
party they held the balance of power between the Liberals and Conservatives, so
could, if driven to it, have deprived the Liberal Government of its working
majority. Yet, despite this threat, the Cabinet had decided that some provision
must be made that would protect Ulster from actual coercion. Barely three weeks
before, the First Lord had made his own position plain by a speech at Bradford,
in which he declared that, while he would do all that was necessary to prevent
Ulster from stopping the rest of Ireland having the Parliament they desired, he
would never be a party to measures to force her to come under a Dublin
Parliament. But how this compromise could be put into practice, still remained
a matter of fierce disagreement. A week later, at the Curragh, a number of
senior Army officers stationed in Ireland had openly declared it their
intention to refuse to obey orders should they be called on to lead their
troops against the Ulstermen; and, aroused to indignation by what appeared to
be a betrayal of their ideals, the bulk of the British people were now angrily
demanding that the government should either guarantee the independence of Northern
Ireland, or resign. On all sides tempers had risen to boiling point. In the
House, hardly a sitting now passed without some exchange of acrimonious
violence; and in Ireland itself it was feared that any day civil war, coupled
with mutiny in the Army, might break out.

It was,
therefore, no wonder that the statesman having had his mind jerked back to the
urgent problem with which he and his colleagues were wrestling as in a
nightmare, should momentarily look a little glum. But Sir Pellinore ignored the
train of thought that the Duke had unwittingly provoked, and boomed at him:

“These Balkan
states are a pack of trouble-makers. Always were. All of ’em. But for Serbia to
attack Austria would be suicidal. Habsburg Empire may be pretty rotten
internally, but it’s still got sufficient kick in it to settle the hash of a
little country like Serbia.”

“Oh, Serbia
alone
, yes!”

The First Lord
gave a quick nod. “We are already agreed that, if any great power became
involved in war, that might swiftly precipitate a general European conflagration.
But Serbia must have been greatly weakened by the losses she has sustained in
her two recent wars. Should she fight again as soon as you suggest, she would
run a big risk of being overwhelmed before help could reach her from Russia,
France, or Britain.”

“There, I agree.”
De Richleau spread out his slim hands in a slightly foreign gesture. “But, as I
have already pointed out, these men of the Black Hand are not ordinary people.
They are both ruthless and rash; and I believe that they would take pretty well
any gamble that offered a fair chance of lifting Serbia to the status of a
great power. Everything you have said, sir, has reinforced my own
conviction—that in the event of a war between the Triple Entente and the
Central Powers, the Entente would eventually emerge victorious. No doubt these
Serbian plotters are of the same opinion. If we are right, it follows that in
such a war Serbia would have backed the right horse. She would be entitled to
claim a seat among the victors at the Peace Table, and there demand her share
in the division of the spoils. Even had she been defeated, over-run, occupied,
and pillaged in the meantime, unscrupulous and ambitious minds might still
consider that not too great a price to pay for the ultimate gaining of such a
prize. And that is what I fear. That Serbia will challenge Austria in the near
future with the deliberate intention of bringing about a world war as the most
likely means of gaining her own ends.”

Sir Pellinore
grunted. “No holes in your reasonin’. But are your premises right? This gang of
bloodstained ruffians may have had enough pull to escape a shooting party, or
the rope; but it doesn’t follow that they’ve enough influence to push their
country into a war.”

“In the past ten
years many of them have risen to comparatively high rank in the army. They have
also recruited some of the best brains among the politicians and professional
classes of their country. All are pledged under the most frightful penalties to
observe the strictest secrecy and to obey without question all orders from
their chief. The selflessness, determination and subtlety with which the
movement works can be compared only with the machinations of the Jesuits at the
height of their power. That may sound an exaggeration, but I assure you that it
is not. You must remember that mentally the Balkan peoples are at least a
century behind those of Western Europe. In those countries of dark forests and
desolate gorges, witchcraft is still practised openly. Even the upper classes
carry charms to protect them from the evil-eye. They live with a violence,
fearlessness and poetry that we have forgotten. They talk of their national
heroes as though these ancient paladins had died only yesterday. For centuries
they conspired against their Turkish overlords; so mystery, plotting, and a
willingness to risk death for secret causes are in their blood. That spirit
still animates rich and poor alike, and it explains how the society of the
Black Hand has succeeded in getting a firm grip on the direction of Serbian
affairs. I have good reason to believe that both the Crown Prince Alexander and
Mr. Pashitch, the Prime Minister, have sworn allegiance to the Black Hand, and
that its chief actually holds a position which would enable him, at any time he
chose, to provoke an incident designed to lead to war.”

“That is a grave
charge to make against distinguished persons, Duke,” remarked Mr. Marlborough
somewhat coldly. “Have you any evidence by which you can support it?”

“None, with
regard to the Crown Prince or the Premier; but I repeat only what I have heard
on good authority—how good you can judge if you know who I mean by Colonel
Dragutin Dimitriyevitch.”

As the other two
shook their heads, De Richleau continued with a reminiscent smile: “I met him
in somewhat unusual circumstances. His ankles were lashed firmly to the low
branch of a big tree. He was hanging there upside down; and some Kurdish
tribesmen were about to slit his throat, so that he would have bled to death in
the same manner as a pig.”

With a loud
guffaw, Sir Pellinore slapped his great thigh. “Go on, young feller; this
sounds good.”

The Duke smiled
back. “Perhaps I should have led up to this episode by giving you some idea how
it came about. You will recall that in her attempt to resist the Balkan League,
Turkey had to fight three widely separated campaigns: one in Thrace against the
Bulgarians attacking from the north; one in the region of Salonika against the
Greeks attacking from the south; and one in central Macedonia, against the
Serbians and Montenegrins attacking from both the north and west. The Turkish
armies of Salonika and Macedonia were doomed to defeat from the beginning,
owing to the vast area they were called on to defend with forces far inferior
to those of their enemies. Moreover, it was clear that if the enemy struck to
the east of them, their strategic position would be rendered hopeless, as there
would be no means at all by which they could be reinforced and maintained from
the bases in Turkey proper. Both armies soon suffered initial defeats, and the
bulk of both fell back towards Monastir, where they met, rallied, and reformed
as one strategic unit. At this juncture the Turkish High Command decided to
send them such help as could be spared while there was still time, and I was
placed in command of a mixed force, with orders to march to their assistance.”

“The railway
from Constantinople to Ferejik was still open, so we were able to make use of
it for some six hundred miles, as far as Demir Hisar, and it was there I
assembled my so-called corps. It consisted of half a dozen battalions of
regulars, eight of reservists, three brigades of fairly good artillery, and a
further five thousand auxiliaries of all kinds— Syrian, Georgian and Armenian
levies with Arab and Kurdish cavalry.”